


Time Enough

by Beltenebra



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Companionable Snark, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Karaoke, M/M, cute pet names, unmitigated sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 08:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9226124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beltenebra/pseuds/Beltenebra
Summary: Yuri hates waiting but there are some things that are worth it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This note stolen shamelessly from Mousapelli: _the thing about Kazakhs and singing competitions is 100% true. In their mostly nomadic history, when families crossed paths, singing competition right after traditional greetings. There's essentially no way Otabek can't sing any other person under the table, and will do so if challenged to in any way. Somebody please write the Otabek at karaoke fic, I'm begging you._ Well, Mousi.... at least part of this contains karaoke! 
> 
> Translations for all the of ridiculously adorable pet names are at the end.

He thinks that Otabek is doing a pretty bad job of trying to hide a yawn. The fake cough he goes for doesn’t cover the fact that his eyelids have been drooping for the last ten minutes. Even through the step removed that is Skype he can tell Otabek is falling asleep. They manage pretty well most of the time but in the evenings, Otabek tends to get the short end of the three hour time difference. 

Yuri falls easily into a habitual scowl. “You are useless to me unconscious, go to bed.” 

It’s possible that Otabek has had too much exposure to the scowl. Much like other Yuuri and stupid Victor, it no longer seems to be effective. Otabek’s mouth curves slightly. At least he has the good sense not to call Yuri adorable when he’s trying to look angry, _unlike Victor_. 

“You too, yeah? I’m sure your morning practice is just as early as mine,” Otabek says as if they don’t have each other’s schedules memorized.

Yuri crosses his arms and slumps back in his chair. “Don’t worry about me. I always get enough sleep.” 

Otabek doesn’t quite laugh but the amusement is clear in his voice. “Wasn’t it just last week that you posted ‘the perfect burn’ to one of JJ’s Instagram posts at three am?” 

“That was a necessary exception.” 

“Of course.” 

Yuri can feel the fondness welling up in his chest, making him feel warm like he was already wrapped up in his blankets, pushing the frown on his face closer to a smile. One of these days Otabek is going to catch on and find out just how much Yuri likes him. 

A few minutes later they both stop dragging their feet and set up their next call. Otabek insists that they always decide before they hang up, he says he likes knowing exactly when they’ll talk again. Yuri pretends to humor him and is _very secretly_ touched. 

He says goodnight and is hovering over the end call button when Otabek smiles softly. 

“Goodnight, Yura. Sleep well.”

Otabek’s video blinks off a second before Yuri can react. His suddenly dark screen reflects his own wide-eyed shock back at him. He stabs the call button before he can think it through. Otabek’s face pops back up, silent, one eyebrow raised in an obvious question. 

“What the hell are you thinking, saying something like that! Calling me that when you aren’t- when I can’t-” Yuri finally accepts the fact that words have abandoned him and lets his head thump down onto the desk. 

“Long distance sucks.” 

Yuri’s mic is better than he thought because Otabek responds immediately. “It does. But I had an ulterior motive.” 

Now it’s Yuri’s turn to look up questioningly. Is Otabek _blushing_? No, must be a trick of the webcam. “I wanted to say it for the first time where you couldn’t hit me. In case you didn’t like it.” 

He feels heat flood his cheeks and there is no way he can write that off as the video quality. Otabek graciously pretends not to notice. “I like it.” 

“Good.” 

They stare at each other silently for a few moments, a matched set in flustered happiness. Finally Yuri clears his throat and breaks the silence. 

“How long has it been since the Grand Prix?” He doesn’t really need to ask, he feels like there is a countdown clock somewhere in the back of his mind always ticking away the days since they last met in person. 

“A while. About five weeks?” _too long_ He can hear the sentiment behind Otabek’s words now. 

Yuri lets just a little bit of the longing lodged in his chest seep into his voice. “I miss you, Beka.” 

Otabek is _definitely_ blushing. 

Yuri has no illusions about his feelings for Otabek. There right behind that first flush of happiness at making an unexpected friend had been the tug of attraction. Though, with the hair and the motorcycle, Otabek really wasn’t playing fair. He assumed it had been mostly teenage hormones because to be honest at fifteen he had been turned on by far less. He waited it out, getting to know Otabek, waiting to see if he could manage being friends with someone. 

It turns out that Otabek is easy to be friends with, at least for Yuri. He listens to Yuri’s rants without complaining. He gives advice when Yuri wants it and keeps (mostly) quiet when he doesn’t. It is nice to have someone who is completely on his side. 

Yes, one could make the argument that he could include annoying other Yuuri and stupid Victor in that category. They bend over backwards at times to prove how supportive they are. But he is under no illusions who comes first with those two. They have each other - he’s happy to have someone in skating who is just his. 

There have been a lot of little signs that Otabek might feel the same way. Some things could just be written off as friendship, like the insistence on regular video calls. Others, like the lingering glances when he thinks Yuri isn’t looking and the way Otabek so thoroughly avoids helping Yuri stretch when they’re together are more difficult to explain. 

Here, in the dark, even thousands of kilometers apart the realization finally settles over Yuri’s shoulder like a hot towel on sore muscles, making him feel comfortable and languid. 

Otabek _wants_ him. 

How long has he been holding back?! Suddenly Yuri is annoyed. And turned on. And incredibly annoyed by being turned on. 

He leans forward with a slightly more menacing glare. “You know the age of consent in both of our countries is sixteen.” 

“I am painfully aware of that, trust me.” Otabek’s voice is as strong and even as always but now that he knows what to look for Yuri can hear a similar tension in it. 

“And you know that I am currently seventeen and will be turning eighteen in-” 

“In forty-one days, yes, Yura, I know.” Otabek almost snaps back at him that time. Yuri is strangely delighted. 

He can’t stop his frown from melting into a wicked grin. “It’s only a week until the European Championship.” 

Yuri doesn’t think he’s imagining the gleam in Otabek’s eyes, the one that is nearly, almost like the glint of challenge just before he steps onto the ice - but not quite. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it.” 

“You and me both.”

 

He finds Otabek on the ice the moment he arrives for open practice, his eyes track Otabek’s movements through a combination spin that was far more graceful than it used to be. The last year or so commentators have been making small asides about him - noticing that Otabek’s skating was becoming more refined. The Kazakh skater swore up and down that he still didn’t do any ballet training. Yuri knew he prefered the more fluid styles of martial arts to dance training. As for himself, he always had plenty of confidence but people told him he had taken on a more masculine power in his routines - most people chalked it up to his natural growth. 

Yuri knows better, when he and Otabek are in the same place they snatch every possible moment of shared practice time on the ice. When they are apart, they talk through their routines together, show each other bits of choreography, give feedback and suggestions. He thinks they are making each other stronger. He’s surprised no one has put the pieces together yet. 

Otabek notices him as soon as he comes out of the spin and gives him a slight smile. Yuri waves his hand in greeting, trying to keep his grin in check. Already he feels a familiar hum under his skin, like his body is amping up, preparing for combat. He tosses his bag down on an empty bench and sheds his jacket, careless in his haste to get onto the ice. 

He always feels like competing against Otabek pushes him just a little bit harder. That urge to show him: look what I can do, how high, how fast, _look_. He knows Otabek feels the same, they’ve talked about it a little, the benefits of having rivals to keep pushing you forward. This time though there is a little extra, one more layer of competitiveness, not just to impress Otabek but to catch all of his attention, to keep him from looking away. 

It makes his blood burn and the ice fly under his skates. Holy shit, is this how Yuuri felt when he and Victor were working together? No wonder things turned out the way they did. 

They blaze through the European Championships. Christophe and Georgi both retired last season leaving Nekola and Crispino as their only seasoned competitors in Europe. None of Yakov’s young skaters are ready to move up and while France and Spain both have promising skaters, they’re still very new to the senior division. Not everyone can take the world by storm like he did, after all. 

Yuri finds himself trailing Otabek by a few points after the short program and is inexplicably thrilled about it. Otabek had nailed his routine and earned a personal best. Yuri, sitting with Mila in the stands just off to the side of the kiss and cry, gives him a double thumbs up and Otabek grins back. 

Mila muses next to him, “I didn’t know his face could _do_ that,” and only complains a little when Yuri elbows her hard in the side. 

Yuri gets him back, trading places in the free skate and takes the gold by just over a point. Michele edges out the French kid for bronze. Otabek bumps his shoulder companionably as they’re making their way off the podium. 

“You looked great.” 

“You too.” Yuri wants to hug him but neither of them have ever been known for easy affection with other skaters and the press is waiting just beyond the ice. 

Otabek seems to know exactly what he’s thinking. “Here, bro hug,” he suggests. 

Yuri raises an eyebrow. “...Bro hug?”

“Leo taught me. Manly hand clasp first, yeah like that. Then lean in and thump the back twice. There. Bro hug.” 

He rolls his eyes. “That’s so dumb.” But he can’t deny that even the brief touch of Otabek’s hand, the weight of his arm across his back made him feel better. 

They both change hastily and run the press gauntlet. Finally they are back in the locker room area. A few of the other skaters and staff members are lingering, rehashing the competition and catching up. 

Usually he feels, well not exactly relaxed, but less tense than usual after competitions but tonight Yuri is full of nervous energy that has nothing to do with skating. He appreciates Otabek’s skating costumes, the man has amazing legs and his costumes absolutely show them off. But his favorite thing in the world is Otabek in simple practice clothes like the ones he is wearing now. It’s crazy that fancy suits or the latest fashion trends don’t affect him nearly as much as the simple track pants and fitted t-shirt Otabek has on. He has his battered leather jacket thrown over his shoulder and it’s all Yuri can do to keep from tackling him right there. 

Instead he takes a couple of steps forward and surreptitiously looks around. No one seems to be paying them much attention. 

He pitches his voice just a little lower than he would for normal conversation. “I’m the European champion. I demand that you kiss me.” 

Otabek doesn’t bother to scan the room, his dark eyes stay firmly locked on Yuri’s as his mouth curves into a soft smile. He reaches out to tip Yuri’s head down a bit. Yuri’s heart is hammering in his chest, he’s sure the whole room must be able to hear it. Their lips are so close.  
At the last moment, Otabek stretches up to press a soft kiss to Yuri’s forehead. He takes a step back, his eyes questioning. 

Yuri’s just drawn a breath to complain when he remembers where they are. It’s not exactly public but it’s definitely not private. After all this time and distance and waiting, does he really want to share that moment with everyone in the room? (And potentially any remaining skater’s instagram followers?) Not really, no. 

He nods in understanding and Otabek lights up. “Come on, let’s get dinner.” 

 

They eat dinner in a quiet little cafe tucked away in a side street a few blocks from the arena. The meal itself is nothing special but Yuri revels in the calm. They talk about whatever movies and books they’ve managed to squeeze in around their training schedules. Otabek listens to Yuri complain that other Yuuri got him hooked on this series of Japanese detective novels but Japanese is impossible to read and so he has to find them in English which is slightly less of a pain. But there are about a _billion_ of this guy’s books in Japanese and only like five translated into English and how completely unfair is that? And Yuri suggests a few tv shows that his rink mates have been talking about for Otabek to try in the off season. 

It’s so much like their normal conversations, comfortable and rambling, that a knot of tension that he didn’t even realise was there loosens in his chest. 

They take a meandering walk back toward the hotel. Otabek’s hand is warm in his, even through their gloves and Yuri lets him lead the way. He seems to have a particular destination in mind. When they turn a corner and take a path that winds down next to the river Yuri understands. 

Otabek stops in a pool of streetlight and turns to Yuri, his dark eyes warm, “Ok. I may not be European champion but I’ve been crazy about you for years. I demand that you kiss me.” 

“Of course it’s like this, with the moonlight and the river. Totally unfair.” It slips out before Yuri can stop himself. Otabek goes out of his way to find an incredibly romantic spot and he is being a sarcastic brat about it. 

Otabek laughs softly, “It’s a strategy. And I think it’s going to work.” Before Yuri can respond, Otabek is stepping into his space, finally pulling him close. He threads one hand into Yuri’s braided hair and Yuri forgets how to breathe. 

He has a split second to realize how good it feels to have Otabek’s solid warmth pressed up against him before their lips touch and all coherent thought is banished. 

He may have spent most of the last few years pining but Yuri’s love life hasn’t been completely non-existent. He’s kissed a few people. There was one vodka laden kiss with Mila where he tried to see what all of the fuss was about girls. It ended with Mila laughing hysterically and him swearing never to listen to Georgi ever again. There had been a brief affair with a boy a year younger than him that had been significantly more engaging. They didn’t have anything in common besides skating and being teenage boys who liked boys but that was enough to sustain a relationship consisting solely of a few makeout sessions in unused corners of the ice complex for a while. Yuri wasn’t really upset when the boy moved to America to train a few months later. 

Yuri thought about kissing Otabek so many times in the last few years that he is sure he knows what it would feel like. He is so wrong. Otabek’s mouth moves gently against his and he’s totally lost in the soft slide of their lips. His arms come up of their own volition, wrapping around Otabek’s waist and pulling him impossibly closer. Otabek responds with a low sound and opens his mouth to Yuri. Yuri is sure he answers with an embarrassing noise of his own. Otabek deepens the kiss and Yuri honest to god feels weak in the knees. He vows to stop giving Georgi so much crap for those ridiculous romance novels he’s always reading. 

He loses track of time - given that they are not completely frozen they have probably not been standing there kissing for hours but Yuri can’t be sure. Otabek pulls back slightly and he can’t hold back his whine of disappointment. Otabek just smiles and hugs him again, fierce and tight and far too brief, before releasing him. 

“Don’t worry, Yura, we have plenty of time.” 

 

Yuri wakes up in Otabek’s bed sprawled half on top of him, his cheek pillowed on Otabek’s shoulder and one of Otabek’s hands wound into his long hair. They had practically fallen asleep kissing, he remembers, both tired but reluctant to let go of each other. Otabek had asked his coach to schedule him an extra day after the men’s competition and if Yuri spent the night in Otabek’s room instead of his own, well, no one needs to know but the two of them. Not that there is anything particularly scandalous happening yet. Otabek is still insisting that they wait a bit to take things farther and though Yuri feels the need to put up a token protest, he’s also relieved. He’s still processing this shift from friends to something else. He spent so long telling himself that it would never happen that even here, with Otabek sleeping in his arms, it’s a little hard to believe. 

He is far less annoyed now than he was initially when Yakov insisted that the team stay for the entire five days of the competition (to demonstrate team solidarity, of course). Yuri will probably have to turn out for Mila’s short program tonight but that’s hours away. Minsk is a nice enough city but he doesn’t feel the need to do a whole lot of sightseeing. He’d much rather stay where he is. 

Otabek is deeply asleep, mouth open and snoring softly. Yuri remembers from past visits that it sometimes requires several alarms to get him even close to conscious. This suits Yuri perfectly at the moment, it means he can study the planes of Otabek’s face, from his strong brows to the elegant line of his jaw, without being creepy. Not that he hadn’t done his share of looking in the past but things are different now. He’s _allowed_. Though he does need to be careful not to get caught, he doesn’t want to end up like Victor, a constantly mooning love sick puppy. 

Yuri shifts a little and stretches. He is definitely sore but it’s the dull ache of a good, intense workout. There is no discomfort that shouldn’t be there and the extra warmth of Otabek next to him feels heavenly. 

He suffered through the growth spurts - all awkwardness on top of limb pain but he’d practiced through it, coming out the other side with a little more muscle and a handful of centimeters. (He actually has about five centimeters on Otabek now.) He kept his long-limbed grace and hard-earned flexibility. If it took more hours at the ballet bar and on the ice than he ever thought possible, well, that’s what it took. It wasn’t like he was the only skater to go through it. Some days he considers taking a training trip to Hasetsu for the hot springs alone, not that he would ever admit it. 

Actually, that isn’t a terrible idea. Yuuri and Victor are splitting their time pretty evenly between St. Petersburg and Hasetsu these days. He can probably talk Yakov into letting him go train with Victor for a week or two. They have enough time before Worlds. If Otabek can make the same arrangements it will be perfect. It would be good for both of them to get another coach’s perspective, right? He settles back into the pillows with a smile on his face and waits for Otabek to wake up. 

 

A few days later, Yuri is tapping out a message to Yuuri on his phone and trying not to smile too much at practice. He doesn’t want anyone to start asking questions. 

[ Oatcake and I are coming. To visit the hot springs. For my birthday. You’ll be in Hasetsu, right?] 

[ …Who or what is Oatcake? ]

[ Oh, for duck’s sake. OTABEK. ]

[ (^ω^) ]

He can practically hear Yuuri’s laughter. He resists the urge to throw his phone in frustration. He hardly ever does that these days (though he still buys heavy duty cases because you never know). 

[ This is why I hate messaging in English! >:( Learn more Russian! ]

[ Прости, Yurio ]

[ I hate you. ]

[Of course we’ll be here and you are welcome any time.] 

After a slightly longer, more detailed conversation with both Yuuri and Victor all of the arrangements are made and he and Otabek have actually booked their flights. Yuri decides to fly into Almaty a day earlier to break up the travel and they’ll travel to Japan together. 

They’re tucked up in bed the night before their flight, Otabek’s arm wrapped snugly around Yuri’s waist and face buried in his mass of hair. Despite Yuri’s protests that Otabek’s going to smother himself, he seems content. They are tangentially talking about their plans for the next few weeks but mostly trying to talk about sex without one or both of them spontaneously combusting. Yuri knows he is blushing but it’s easier like this in the dark, not looking at each other. 

“I refuse to do that in that in their house.”

“Yeah, that would be weird. We should stay at the hot springs for a few days. It’s a hotel right? That’s what people do in hotels.”

Yuri’s mind immediately crowds with the memories of hundreds of hotels that he had decidedly not had anything even close to sex in. 

Otabek laughs, a low rumble that Yuri feels against his back. “You know, what normal people do. When they take vacations.” 

“You’ve… done it before, right?” Yuri hates the hesitancy he can hear creeping into his voice. They haven’t talked a lot about their dating lives but they’ve been close friends for years so Yuri knows Otabek had a few relationships before and Otabek knows what little there is to know about him. 

Otabek gathers some of his hair and moves it aside so he can nuzzle the back of his neck before responding. “Yeah. But it’s going to be different with you. Much better.” 

How the hell does he know that? Sure, Yuri is amazing in general but he’s never... he knows how it’ll go _theoretically_ but that’s not really the same as first hand knowledge. “Why do you just assume that,” Yuri grumbles softly.

Otabek’s voice is quiet but heavy with emotion, “You know why, _zhanym_.” 

His face is absolutely on fire now. Since their relationship changed Otabek has started sneaking endearing names into perfectly prosaic conversations and it drives Yuri crazy. It’s one thing to call him ‘beloved’ or ‘moonbeam’ or whatever when they’re wrapped around each other in private but it’s another thing entirely when he drops a casual ‘darling’ or ‘kitten’ at the taxi stand or in the locker room. It always has Yuri caught between wanting to smack Otabek or kiss him and he _definitely_ knows. He just gives Yuri an infuriating little grin and and sails on as if everything is normal. Though, Yuri thinks, given the regularity of the occurrence maybe this _is_ normal  
now. 

Before Yuri can respond Otabek’s hand is moving, sliding up under the edge of his soft sleep shirt first, then ghosting down over his abs to rest just under the band of his sweatpants. Yuri sucks in a harsh breath, the precursor to a moan as Otabek’s hand trails down slowly, not quite touching his rapidly hardening cock. 

Otabek’s voice in his ear is still soft but darker and hotter now, “So far, _zvezda moya_ , everything is better with you.” 

All of Yuri’s words fly out of his head and he is reduced to a soft whine as he shifts his hips restlessly to push them forward into Otabek’s hand. 

“Yura, can I-” 

“ _Yes_.” 

They’ve tried a few things now in the limited time they get to see each other in person. Besides kissing like it is going out of style, there are hands wandering, learning how the other likes to be touched. Years of casual contact has taken on a delicious edge of tension - it’s thrilling and addictive. Yuri hopes he never gets used to the feeling of Otabek’s body against his. 

Finally Otabek’s hand is on him, stroking steadily from base to tip. He tightens his grip just a little around the head, thumb swiping through the small pearl of liquid there and Yuri gasps at the sharp spike of pleasure. 

He grinds his ass back into the cradle of Otabek’s hips in retaliation, finding the hard line of his cock, making him groan into Yuri’s neck. 

Neither of them is in any kind of mood for teasing and they quickly fall into a rhythm that works for both of them. Otabek’s mouth is hot on his skin and Yuri tilts his head to give him better access to his neck and shoulder. Yuri slides his own hand back over Otabek’s hip to squeeze his ass and Otabek bites down on his shoulder. 

Yuri is shaking already, the tension tightening in his abdomen. “Beka, I’m close.” 

“I’ve got you.” Otabek’s fingers tighten around him just a little and twist at his tip and that’s all it takes, Yuri is shaking apart, coming in hot spurts as Otabek’s hand slows. 

He gives himself one breath before rolling onto his back and finding Otabek’s mouth for a wet, messy kiss. His own hand goes directly for Otabek’s cock and it only takes a few strokes before he’s falling apart against Yuri, moaning into their kiss. 

They both flop back on the bed to catch their breath for a moment before shucking their clothes and using them to wipe off. Otabek catches one of Yuri’s hands and presses a kiss to the center of his palm. 

“Way better.” 

Yuri just turns so he can tuck his head under Otabek’s chin and elbows him gently in the side. “Sleep now.” 

“Yes, yes,” Otabek agrees sleepily. “Sweet dreams, _pryanichek_.” 

 

Yuri wakes up still groggy from a dream where he and Otabek were in the backseat of a convertible, he was wearing bright red lipstick and Otabek was singing along to the radio. He can’t remember where they were going or why there were so many watermelons in the car. Mila was right though, he had looked good in the lipstick. 

The next leg of the trip goes smoothly and before they know it they’re waiting in the passenger pickup area of Fukuoka International. Yuri is especially bleary eyed but happy. As soon they spot Victor and Yuuri’s car he realizes how much he’s been looking forward to seeing them. 

Yuuri immediately hops out of the passenger seat to help get their suitcases into the trunk of the SUV and Victor carols his greetings from the driver’s seat. 

“Yurio! Oatcake! So good to see you both!” 

Otabek blinks a few times, clearly trying to parse what he just heard. “What did he call us?” 

“I’ll explain later,” Yuri mutters with absolutely no intention of doing so. 

He flicks his eyes up to the front of the car and gives Yuuri a meaningful look. “They’re letting him drive now?” 

“He’s had his license for a few months now but believe me, it’s best for everyone if someone else is there to supervise,” Yuuri explains. 

Victor smiles just as brightly at Yuuri insulting him as he does when they’re being disgustingly sweet. Weirdo. 

They head down along the coast to Hasetsu. Yuuri keeps the conversation light and prosaic, mindful of how tired they are. 

Yuri and Otabek usually speak Russian together though Yuri has picked up some Kazahk over the years. Yuri’s English is better than Otabek’s and Yuuri is better than all of them. He’s seen Yuuri and Victor have conversations that make his head hurt winding Russian, English, and Japanese together like ribbons. Yuuri thoughtfully sticks mostly to Russian for the moment. His accent has gotten better since the last time Yuri saw them. 

He turns from watching the shimmering sea race by the car window to find Otabek smiling at him. He startles, pulled out of the mild daze of travel weariness. “What? Is there something on my face?” 

Otabek’s hand entwined with his on the seat between them squeezes his lightly, “No. It’s a perfectly acceptable face. You look happy, is all.” 

Huh. There under the drowsiness is a warm feeling of contentment, he really is glad to be back. “I guess I am.” 

They manage to get to Yuuri and Victor’s house without any major incidents. Victor immediately loops his arms through theirs and drags them both inside to give them a tour of the house ignoring Yuri’s protests that he already knows where everything is. 

He has spent time in both their house here and their apartment in St. Petersburg, of course. The apartment is all modern gleaming glass, pale wood, and buffed metal. It’s a nice contrast for the sprawling rooms of old wood and tatami in the Hatsetsu house. Victor and Yuuri have filled both of their homes with a jumble of books, dog toys, soft throws, and eclectic art - despite the obvious differences the spaces suit them both to a tee. 

Yuri lets his mind wander while Victor happily answers Otabek’s polite questions. He wonders what it would be like to live with Otabek. Where would they settle down, it would have to be a city, but easy enough to get out to the countryside often, they’d need a place for Otabek’s bike. What would their shared life look like? 

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Victor poking his cheek - both he and Otabek smiling at him like they were sharing a joke. God, that’s a terrifying thought. Victor’s smile is incandescent, “I’m so happy you’re here, Yuratchka. Both of you.” He pulls Yuri in for a quick hug before heading to the kitchen to help with dinner leaving Yuri and Otabek on the porch that looks out into the back garden. It’s still a little cold but they sit side by side, both blinking a little sleepily in the afternoon sunlight. 

Yuri angles his body so he can slump down to rest his head on Otabek’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here too.” He feels like there is so much more he could say. ‘Thank you for letting me drag you halfway across the world. For letting me subject you to the crazy people in my life. For being both a solid, grounding presence and a thrilling partner in crime.’

Otabek tilts his head down to rest on Yuri’s hair and leans back against him. His voice iss soft against the top of Yuri’s head. “I know.” 

 

They plan to spend three weeks in Hasetsu and for the majority of time they keep a regular training schedule.

Yuri spends the morning and afternoon of his birthday much like he would in St. Petersburg. Up early, go for a run, eat breakfast, skating practice, lunch, off to the gym for stretching and strength training, back to the ice until dinner. Except today with Otabek running by his side feet slapping the pavement in time with his, homemade rice balls for breakfast, Yuko’s cheerful greeting at the rink and Victor’s feedback ringing in his ears it is a million times better. He even leans into Yuuri’s arm around his shoulders after he tightens up a particularly difficult combo. 

They have dinner at Yu-topia that night and Yuri lets the Katsuki family spoil him. Everyone indulges in far too much fried food, drinks, and birthday cake. 

Otabek has been to Japan before for competitions but only twice and his trips were brief. He seems to be having a great time, thrilled with everything from the views to the food to the practice and training sessions. And everyone loves him. Yuuri’s mother even pulls Yuri aside one evening to mention quietly that she’s happy he has such a nice young man who makes him smile. He flushes bright red but thanks her. He had no idea that he had been worried about them accepting Otabek until after it happens, it’s only a few days into the trip and he feels more at ease than he has for months. 

 

Victor insists on a karaoke date, swearing up and down that it’s against the Japan Tourism Board rules to host Otabek for a visit and not go to karaoke. Yuri knows Otabek likes music, he’s heard him sing in the shower a few times and hum to himself so he knows he can carry a tune but he doesn’t expect him to be quite so… enthusiastic about it. 

Otabek’s doing something with his face that Yuri would call pouting on anyone else. “Come on, we’re a traditionally musical people. Surely you’ve seen Eurovision.”

“Has anything about me ever given you the impression that I would have seen Eurovision?” 

“Well, you do seem to like dance battles,” Otabek says with a smug little smile. 

Yuri glares back at him. Four years later and he is still getting crap about it. They seriously need to get new jokes. 

Otabek’s smile shifts into a look of dramatic disappointment that he had to have stolen straight from Victor. Which was disconcerting. “You didn’t even crack that book I gave you, ‘Steppe This Way: Your Guide to Kazakhstan’, did you?” 

“I’d much rather learn whatever I need to know directly from you,” Yuri sniffs. 

“Come on you two,” Victor whines, tapping his foot impatiently. “You’re already together, no? You don’t need to stop and flirt.” 

Yuri whips around to growl at him, ponytail narrowly missing Otabek’s face, “Says the man who flirts with his _husband_ every minute of every goddamned day.” 

“Ah, but that’s important for a marriage! It’s called keeping the magic alive,” Victor intones gleefully, like he is dispensing invaluable wisdom. 

Yuuri is absolutely no help at all, barely managing to stifle his laughter as he waves them through the door and into the lobby. 

They hang back a little as Yuuri converses with the cheerful girl behind the counter in rapid fire Japanese. Yuri knows a lot more Japanese now but he’s still pretty rusty on the super polite Japanese for customers. 

“Oh,” Otabek actually looks genuinely down now. “But it won’t be as good as usual, I didn’t bring my tambourine.”

Yuri just blinks for a second, trying to figure out if Otabek was pulling his leg. He has a very good poker face making it hard to tell sometimes. 

Before he can respond, Yuuri says something to the counter girl who smiles and chirps something extremely polite no doubt before sweeping open the cabinet behind her to reveal a rack _full_ of tambourines. 

Otabek’s face is as close to awe as Yuri has ever seen it. He has that fierce competition air about him again. “Let’s do this.” 

Yuri sighs, deeply regretting that he is the only one of them too young to legally drink in Japan. 

It’s actually more fun than he expects. There are a couple of awkward moments at first going through the books and machines to find songs they know. Yuuri and Victor put in some Japanese pop songs they like. Apparently Yuuri has been using the top 40 hits to help Victor practice which suits his ridiculous, dramatic nature far too well. 

They have a lot of songs that are popular everywhere and they end up with a jumble of American and European pop rock from the 80’s and 90’s plus the newer hits that Yuri adds, determined not to let the set list be _completely_ lame. They still sing nearly an hour of Bon Jovi to Otabek’s apparent delight. ‘What? Everyone likes Bon Jovi.’ 

Yuuri and Victor get increasingly giggly as the empty beer glasses stack up. Otabek is all sprawling, relaxed limbs and slightly flushed cheeks with an easy grin that Yuri finds horribly charming. Until Otabek makes him and Victor sing a ridiculous disco song about Rasputin, that is. In retaliation he demands that Otabek demonstrate the traditional musical skills of his people. Unsurprisingly there are no Kazahk songs in the catalog but it doesn’t phase Otabek at all. He stands up to sing a powerful, sweeping ballad in a strong, resonant voice accompanied only by Yuuri on tambourine and Victor on tabletop drums. 

The whole thing is unfairly attractive but Yuri can’t muster up too much ire that his plan backfired horribly. Not when Otabek’s eyes are shining at him like that. 

 

The days pass too quickly in a pleasant blend of training, company, and sightseeing. They stay with Yuuri and Victor most nights but Yuri tries to get to the hot spring at every possible opportunity. Otabek doesn’t protest in the slightest, commenting one evening as they’re both sprawled bonelessly over the warm rocks soaking out the soreness of practice and watching the steam rise into the night sky that if he had grown up in this kind of place he might have never left.

He is enjoying the thoroughly novel concept of spending so much time with Otabek, just having several uninterrupted weeks together is amazing but still there is something he wants. Something he’s fairly sure they both want. 

They’ve spent a couple of nights in one of the guest rooms at Yu-topia where it’s slightly less weird to touch each other. And jerked each other off once or twice in Victor and Yuuri’s shower when the couple was out but it isn’t ideal. It’s not that Yuri thinks they would be mad to learn that he had sex in their house. On the contrary, Victor would probably be delighted. And Yuri absolutely can’t handle that. 

So they decide to take an overnight trip to a town a little farther down the coast. They spend the afternoon meandering through the narrow little streets window shopping. Yuri picks up some small things for Mila and his other rink mates and Otabek teases him about betraying his cool, standoffish image by bringing back souvenirs. He sticks his tongue out in retaliation and buys a super cool leopard print sweatshirt with studs around the cuffs and collar. 

Yuri leads Otabek to a little cafe he had read about, he had gone looking for one that reminded him of the place in Barcelona. Otabek knew as soon as Yuri ordered for both of them and the look he gave him across the small scarred wooden table was so fond Yuri can feel the warmth of it spread through his chest and heat up his cheeks. 

They take their time getting back to their hotel, having dinner, enjoying the hot spring but Yuri feels like time is moving oddly - stretching out like molasses one moment only to zip forward the next hour. Before he knows it it’s nine o’clock and the sidewalks in the little village are all but rolled up. There is really nothing to do but relax in their room. Their very anonymous, private room kilometers away from anyone they know. 

Otabek has allowed himself to be thoroughly converted to wearing a yukata around the house. Yuri is all aboard for this even though it’s making him a little crazy. But from the glances he’s intercepted when Otabek thinks no one is looking he thinks the feeling might be mutual. 

He’s having a hard time pinning down what he’s feeling right now. There is a lot of excitement, anticipation roiling in his stomach, and… nervousness. Yeah, it’s a little like he used to feel when he first started competing. He is doing his level best not to pace so he’s reduced to puttering - fussing with the drapes, checking his hair in the bathroom mirror, making tea. 

Finally Otabek, who has been lounging in the middle of their big, soft futon and smiling indulgently at him, intervenes. “Yuri. Come here.” 

He opens his arms and Yuri is helpless not to go to him. 

Yuri kneels down next to him and lets Otabek pull him down while he leans up, meeting Yuri halfway in a soft, searching kiss. 

“We can do whatever you want. We’ve waited this long, there’s time. It’s fine if it’s not tonight.” 

“No!” Yuri’s voice comes out closer to a shout than he intended but he meets Otabek’s eyes and does his best to pour all of his longing and determination into the gaze. “I want this. I want _you_ , Beka.” 

Otabek shivers a little and tugs Yuri back in, gently leaning them both back until he is settled on the bed with Yuri stretched out on top of him. 

They kiss for a long time, just enjoying the slide of their lips, hands slowly wandering over yukata-clad bodies. Yuri moves his legs so he is straddling Otabek’s hips and slides down just a bit to feel the firm line of Otabek’s cock against his own. They’ve gotten off together like this before, hips locked together, rubbing hot skin against hot skin until they come but tonight Yuri wants more. 

Yuri pulls away for a moment to shuck his yukata and Otabek’s eyes tracking the bare lines of his shoulders and chest is very gratifying. He rolls off to sprawl on his back and pulls Otabek up to get him out of his yukata as well. 

“You need to be way more naked.” 

Otabek chuckles and tosses both of their robes off to the side. He props himself up on an elbow and trails his hand down to cup Yuri’s cock. Yuri kisses him, getting a hand on him in return. They tease each other for a while, both breathing hard against each other’s mouths as their hands move slowly. 

Finally Yuri flails a hand out to the side of the bed where they had put the lube. He drops the tube in the middle of his own stomach and spreads his legs wider, throwing one over Otabek’s hip, hoping that he will get the very pointed hint. 

Otabek looks down at him questioningly as his fingers hover just above Yuri’s skin. “Is this ok, do you want-”

“God, _yes_.” 

It’s not like he’s never touched himself like that but he knows that it’s going to be different with another person. It’s almost embarrassing the way his body strains toward Otabek’s touch but he can’t bring himself to care. 

The slip of one lubed finger inside him feels almost shockingly good. Otabek is watching him carefully, his movements slow but deliberate and confident. He’s able to go deeper than Yuri could by himself and when he crooks his finger he finds that spot that eludes Yuri nearly every time. 

“Right there?” Otabek asks as if he doesn’t damn well know exactly what he’s doing. 

“More.” Yuri’s moan makes the command sound a little less demanding than he wants but it works. 

Otabek works another finger inside him and leans down to drop a soft kiss on his mouth. “Anything for you, _botam_.”

“Are you seriously calling me a camel right now?” Otabek doesn’t deign to reply, just twists his fingers again to make Yuri gasp.

He feels like he is losing his mind, Otabek is unraveling every last coherent thought with each slow slide of his fingers in and out. He looks pleased with himself and entirely too rational for Yuri’s taste. He wants to see Otabek as desperate as he is. 

He arches his back a little more on the next slow thrust and doesn’t hold back the whimper that escapes when those talented fingers press forward. “You should do that again, but with your cock.” 

He lets his eyes flutter open and gauges Otabek’s reaction. He he actually reels back a little, wide-eyed like Yuri has just slapped him. Yuri’s face is flaming now, he can feel the blush burn across his cheeks but he wills himself not to let the embarrassment stop him. Like everything else in his life, he’s fine with pushing to get what he wants. 

“I want you to fuck me, Beka.” 

Otabek chokes on his breath and there’s that fevered edge Yuri is looking for. “Holy shit, Yuri. You can’t just _say_ things like that.” 

“Hasn’t anyone told you? I’m a punk with a bad attitude, I can say anything I want.” He lets his smirk soften, “I’m ready, _aynalayin_ , I need you inside me.” 

Yuri can see Otabek’s control snap. It’s gratifying to see the slight tremor in his hands as he scrambles for the lube. 

Yuri gets to it first and Otabek groans when Yuri slicks up his cock, eyes closed tight like he’s concentrating. But finally Otabek is there, braced over him with the tip of his cock tantalizingly pressing again his opening, those beautiful dark eyes looking into his full of fire and deeper emotions they haven’t quite named. Otabek slides one strong hand down Yuri’s leg to draw it up over his shoulder and Yuri wraps the other around his hips. Otabek presses forward and Yuri can feel every centimeter of him inside, sinking into him so carefully until he’s as deep as he can go. 

They pause just like that for a moment, panting against each other’s mouths, letting the tension build. That breathless moment on the ice just before the music starts. Yuri reaches for one of Otabek’s hands, twines their fingers together and squeezes gently, smiling softly. “Come on, Beka.” 

Otabek moans deep in his chest and pulls his hips back. He slides in and out of Yuri slowly and steadily, filling Yuri with fire, the heat suffusing through his body until he feels incandescent. The pleasure builds, wave after wave and Yuri wonders how much he can take before he drowns. 

At the end though, neither of them can go slow. Yuri’s hips are moving at their own pace, lifting to meet Otabek’s deep thrusts. They push each other higher, the muscles in Otabek’s back shudder under Yuri’s grasping hands, he knows he is trembling, his body straining toward release. Otabek manages to slide a hand between them and his slick fingers have barely closed around Yuri’s cock and he’s coming. A shock of sensation blazes down his spine and spreads and he can feel his whole body jerk with the intensity of it and Otabek still moving inside him just draws it out, harder and longer than he’s ever felt. It feels like flying, like landing a perfect jump and he knows Otabek will be there to catch him. 

He knows he is making a lot of noise, high pitched moans and Otabek’s name and some garbled pleas all mixed up together. He pulls Otabek down into a messy, open mouthed kiss and a moment later, Otabek groans into his mouth as he lets go. Yuri can feel the heat blossoming deep inside him and he holds Otabek close as their movements slow. 

They stay just like that for a few long moments. Otabek’s face buried in Yuri’s neck, one hand clutched around Otabek’s broad shoulders the other cradling his head, still twined together. Unfortunately they do have to move eventually. They gently disengage and Otabek rolls over onto his back assuming, quite correctly, that Yuri will want to curl up against him. 

Otabek smooths Yuri’s hair back off of his forehead before winding his hand into it. Yuri splays a hand over Otabek’s chest, imagining the steady thump of his heart beneath his fingers. 

Otabek’s voice is soft and hoarse in the dim glow of room, “Was it worth the wait?” 

“A+, would do again.” Yuri murmurs into Otabek’s shoulder. 

“Would?” 

“Will.” He’s already running down the very thorough list of potential bed-related activities in his mind, trying to decide what they should do next. 

“You know I love you, right?” Yuri’s eyes snap open wide at Otabek’s quiet question. Of course he knows. But it’s an entirely different thing to know and to hear it. Especially like this, pressed together nearly as close as they could be in a dark, cosy room. 

He doesn’t bother to hide his smile, it definitely shows in his voice. “I know. I love you too, _medvezhonok_.” 

He probably deserves the merciless tickle attack that follows. 

 

Months later, a few weeks into the off-season Yuri finds himself in the all too familiar position opposite Otabek on video chat. It’s getting late and he is not hiding his yawn very well. 

“Am I boring you, _tigryenok_ ,” Otabek teases. “It can’t possibly be because of the time, given that I am three hours ahead.” 

“Ugh, you know annoying Victor woke me up at the crack of dawn with a stupid phone call about stupid choreography. He could have told Yuuri first if he had to share it with someone _immediately_. That’s what he has a stupid husband for.” 

“Completely disregarding the fact that it’s _your_ choreography. You must be tired, your insults are severely lacking in variety.” Yuri glares and Otabek just laughs at him. He can’t wait until they are in the same place. He’s more menacing in person. “Just a few more days until you can glower at me in person, _altynym_.” 

Otabek really needs to stop doing that mind-reading thing. It can be a little unsettling. “My coach tried to apologize to me again today,” he continues. “I keep telling him that no one believes he is having major back surgery in order to ruin my upcoming season. I think he’s nervous about turning me back over to the Russians.” 

“As if there is anything for him to worry about. We’ll take perfectly good care of you,” Yuri grumps, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“That’s what I said. And it’s only one season in St. Petersburg, after all.” Otabek leans forward with one of those grins that make Yuri feel shivery. “Maybe next year you can come train in Almaty.” 

Yuri doesn’t want to acknowledge exactly how happy he is to be living with Otabek this year, he’s afraid he’ll jinx it. But he does let himself smile back a little. 

“Maybe. We’ll figure it out. After all, we have plenty of time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Прости - 'sorry' in Russian  
> zhanym - 'my soul' in Kazakh  
> zvezda moya - 'my star' in Russian  
> pryanichek - gingerbread in Russian (like calling someone 'sugar' but spicier ;)  
> botam - camel in Kazakh (yes, Otabek is calling Yuri a little camel right then)  
> aynalayin - 'beloved' or 'my sweet' in Kazakh  
> medvezhonok - 'little bear' in Russian  
> tigryenok - 'tiger' in Russian  
> altynym - 'my sweetheart' in Kazakh


End file.
